Quiet Content, Quiet Pain, Quiet Joy
by Grey-Rain-Cloud
Summary: Lindir is not a well known character. This is a One-Shot about how I would like to see him, and why he never takes a big part in things.


Sometimes people fade into the background.

If they aren't loud or opinionated, you could forget that they were in a room.

When there are so many stronger personalities, the quiet ones get less attention.

Lindir was not talkative. He was not obnoxious or a warrior; he did not go to battle until it was absolutely necessary, and even then he was certainly not anything memorable or glory worthy—at least to elf standards. He was not sent out for patrols of Rivendell's border and rarely was appointed the task for hunting game.

Lindir was quiet; he was calm. He did not get angry or use sharp words. To everyone he was ever kind, but though his patience was known and would have been good for diplomacy, he was not an adviser. He did not give counsel or deal with potential allies or strained political ties—he was too easily forgotten to be able to negotiate anything in Rivendell's favour. He was a minstrel when wanted and a house minder and servant the rest of the time. His role in working for Lord Elrond and his family was not very definite: if the kitchens were in need of help with preparing a feast, he would help; if there was last minute cleaning that needed to be done before a visiting party arrived, he would join the house keepers; if there was decorating for a celebration that had been forgotten, he would take the responsibility for himself and finish it before it caused any kind of panic.

Whenever Erestor would get piled with too much paperwork for anybody's good health, Lindir would take over the lessons he gave to Elrond's twin sons Elladan and Elrohir and let him take a much needed break. When his Lord had not been able to spend enough time with his much loved wife, Lindir would do his best to clear his schedule. When Glorfindel came back from an Orc skirmish and was asked if he had acquired injury and he would reply negatively but then knock on Lindir's door with a sheepish look on his proud face, Lindir would stitch or wrap the minor wounds in calming silence. He had enough knowledge of healing from his Lord to do it properly and he understood that the other elf just did not want to worry others as well as not wanting to be coddled for something so minor.

Lindir was not a warrior. He was not skilled with weapons.

Lindir was not brave. He much preferred a calm life to dangerous quests.

Lindir was not renowned. The shadows clung much too strong for that.

But Lindir was loyal, and that can bring about many things.

"It is a shame you will not be able to accompany me." Lady Celebrian sighed to her husband. "I will not even have the twins to entertain me since they are hunting."

Elrond smiled at her. "It will not be long before they join you in Lorien, and there will be many warriors there to keep you occupied."

The silver haired elf laughed musically. "Bodyguards you mean. They shall be so focused on picking up signs of danger that they will barely speak to one another, let alone I."

They were in the library along with Erestor and Glorfindel, where they had come to make sure that everything was prepared for Celebrian's trip to her parent's realm the next morning. The original plan was for the twins to come with their mother, but they had wanted to go with a hunting party and so would journey to the Golden Wood after they returned. Celebrian had been disappointed that she would not be able to spend more time with her children, but they were at an age where they started making their own decisions, and so had allowed what they wished.

"What about if one of us comes along?" Glorfindel suggested, indicating either himself or Erestor.

Erestor put a stop to that immediately. "As much as it would please me to go with you to Lorien, Celebrian, I have much to do in your absence. Glorfindel must go out on patrol also, as he is Captain: his warriors will need his instruction. Forgive me."

Celebrian, who had started to look hopeful, sighed sadly but then shrugged her shoulders delicately. There was nothing she could do.

"My Lady," a voice said from behind, "if you wish it I would gladly accompany you."

The four of them turned to see a male elf with long and rich brown hair, kind hazel eyes, and a fair face. It was Lindir, wearing robes of a deep and beautiful sapphire and a plain silver circlet adorning his brow. Despite his attire he was kneeling before a bookcase with a box of books and scrolls that he was obviously sorting. Elrond, Celebrian, Glorfindel, and Erestor were surprised that they had not noted him further than a cursory glance when they had entered. Indeed, none of them could even remember greeting Lindir.

"Oh!" The Lady exclaimed softly. "Are you sure? You do not mind being my entertainment?" She smiled and her eyes sparkled teasingly.

Lindir's lips curved into a small smile of his own. "I would be honoured, my Lady."

"And you do not have any duties that I would be keeping you from?"

"Nothing that cannot be postponed, my Lady. I would not be remiss in my duties, and I would not say no to a visit to the Golden Wood. It has been long since my last." He stood and dusted his robes slightly, though there was no dust. He looked to Elrond. "Unless my Lord has any other tasks for me that I am yet unaware, I would travel to Lorien with your party if it pleases you."

Elrond shook his head and smiled. "No Lindir, I have nothing pressing that need be done."

Celebrian laughed delightedly and clapped her hands. "Thank you Lindir! Now I shall not be lonely."

"Will you be riding with the warriors?" Glorfindel asked, and was curious when Lindir frowned slightly before the lines smoothed out into calmness.

"No, I do not believe so." When he was thrown an inquisitive glance by the four of them, he elaborated. "I am not much of a warrior."

Celebrian showed tact. "It would not matter if you were or were not: why would he offer to come and be my companion if all he was going to do was be another warrior, the very ones that I was complaining about? No, I would much prefer that you be by my side." Celebrian said to Lindir. "Perhaps you would bring one of your instruments? I so love to hear your music."

And so at dawn everyone in the travelling party was ready to leave on their horses. Many had come to see their Lady off, and many were startled when Lindir came, riding his grey speckled mare. Everyone was so used to seeing him in formal ware that it was odd for him to be wearing travelling clothes of tunic, breeches, and green cloak. It showed off his long limbs and slight body. It was infinitely odder to see him with a bow and quiver on his back and a sword at his waist. This was easily forgotten though when they saw their exquisite Lady and said their farewells.

"I do hope that they are not troubled by Orcs." Elrond frowned, feeling a light sense of foreboding.

"There are many warriors to protect Celebrian. Even if they are troubled, none will touch your Lady." Glorfindel assured him.

Elrond nodded, and he felt that the Captain was correct, but his dread did not abate. If anything it grew, and he had the worst feeling that he had forgotten something important as he watched the group riding away.

They were two days into their journey when they were attacked. They had been moving none stop, even if at a more leisurely pace, and were just taking their first break. During the day Lindir had been entertaining the Lady Celebrian with music from either his flute or fiddle that he had brought, but did not dare to at night. It would call unwanted attention to their party. At first Lindir had had a bit of trouble playing at the same time as riding his horse, but he had adapted soon enough. He had felt a warmness in him, as he always did, when the warriors and Celebrian so obviously enjoyed it.

"I am so glad that you offered to join me Lindir." Celebrian commented just before the ambush. Her sweet face glowed under the stars.

Lindir smiled with closed lips. "I have been enjoying myself also, my Lady."

"Oh Lindir! There's no need to be so informal when we have known each other so long a time." She laughed.

"But my Lady, I am in your service. It would be impolite not to address you as such." Lindir protested. He had known Lord Elrond even longer than Lady Celebrian and could not conceive to address him as anything other than his title. Lindir worked for him, it was not acceptable.

"But Lindir, we are also your friends—" She could not finish: the Orcs were upon them.

They came from all sides, their armour and scimitars clanging so noisily that it was a wonder that they had not been heard before. The warriors made an instinctive circle around Celebrian and therefore Lindir, and the minstrel put himself in front of his Lady so that he covered her from attack and backed her into the tree behind to cover her other side. He took out his bow and fit it with an arrow. He was not the best shot, but he was fair at it and he took all the openings that he could while making sure that he did not hurt the warriors around him.

There were many Orcs, so it would be a small battle but a difficult one. The fell creatures had the advantage of it being dark out, and if their victims had been Men they would surely have won easily enough, so it was fortunate that elves had better night vision than Men. But the Orcs also had archers, and were aiming without the hesitation of hitting their comrades. Lindir aired for the archers.

Just then there was the dreadful twang of an Orcish bow, and Lindir, who had moved forward slightly to get better angles, saw that an Orc to his side was aiming strait for Celebrian. There was no way to stop the thick arrows momentum, there was no way to put it off course. So Lindir dived in front of his Lady and received the arrow in his shoulder. He gasped quietly at the tearing sensation and just barely kept from crying out, instead an almost inaudible groan left him. Lindir was infinitely glad that the sounds of battle covered it up and that Celebrians attentions were riveted elsewhere: he did not want to be a distraction to the warriors.

He drew back his bow with ragged breaths and let an arrow fly. It just caught the Orc that had pierced him in the throat. Then Lindir threw down his weapon and exchanged it for his sword—if he continued shooting with his shoulder he would tear it worse and most likely hit someone he did not want to. He did not have much time to assess his injury before he was face with an Orc that had gotten past the guard. It had an ugly squished face with sharp teeth, snarling lips, and hateful eyes. It was one of the bigger ones too, with more muscles and skill. And Lindir was not the best fighter, plus he was already injured.

It raised its scimitar and barred it down on Lindir. He deflected and thrust his sword at the creatures gut, but the sharp and painful twisting it elicited from his arrow imbedded shoulder made it falter, so the Orc was able to protect itself and launch another attack. This went on for a while, with both making attempts to defeat the other and deflecting the others, until the Orc got past Lindir's defence and raked it across his sword arm. Lindir immediately lost his blade, and it clattered soundlessly on the ground. The Orc sliced at Lindir's chest, but the elf stumbled back so it was not fatal. The creature roared angrily, scratched at Lindir's face with its clawed nails so he recoiled, and raised its powerful leg, kicking Lindir right where he had just cut. Lindir fell on his back, while the Orc arced his scimitar down for the death strike. Even as he did this though, Lindir had pulled a knife that had been hidden in his boot and ducked his death, rising up and stabbing the evil creature's gut to the hilt. It made a strangled noise, but all Lindir did was pull it out and go for the throat. Then it was dead.

Lindir rose completely, staggered on his feet. The battle was almost over; the Orcs almost defeated, the warriors being far more skilled then their fell opponents. Lindir retook his post in front of Lady Celebrian, knife still in hand, and he did this none too soon, for just moments later an arrow embedded right below his ribs that could have hit her. Lindir bent forward in pain, but he had to do something or another would doubtlessly follow, so he straightened as much as he could, pulled back the arm holding his knife and let it fly towards the offending Orc. It flew mercifully straight and thunked deep into the creature's chest, killing it instantly by stabbing the heart.

Lindir's sight blackened around the edges and dark red fireworks clouded the rest. He swayed and his knees felt weak, but he stayed upright. He had to stay at his self-appointed post of protecting his Lady, even if that meant with his body seeing as he had no weapon. There was no need though, he had taken out the last archer with his knife and the warriors dispatched the rest of the Orcs with efficiency so that no other penetrated the protective circle. They were safe now.

"Pile the carcasses and burn them." The leader of the warriors ordered. "Then we head back to Rivendell."

"Why?" Someone asked.

"Because some of us are injured and of no use to protect the Lady." The leader responded obviously, and a little bit condescendingly, as he gestured toward where he knew Celebrian to be. He followed his own gesture with his eyes to assure himself of her wellbeing—even though he knew her to be uninjured; he had been paying close attention to the noise around him and had not heard her cry out. He inevitably say Lindir first, where he still stood with locked knees in front of his Lady protectively. He gasped. Many other eyes widened as they caught sight of their minstrel.

Lindir had blood running down his tunic from one arrow protruding from his shoulder and the other under his ribs, and well as the long cut that slashed diagonally from his chest. Orc blood splattered randomly over his body, and four bloody scratches marred his fair face. Right before the leader's eyes—as well as many others—the injured elf crumpled to his knees, his usually smooth face creased with pain. Celebrian caught him before he fell forward and drive the arrows deeper. She cried out when she saw the injuries that she had previously had no knowledge of—she had been facing his back.

"Who has the fastest horse?" The leader demanded urgently, and when one raised their hand and he was found relatively uninjured, he continued. "Ride now with him to Rivendell. Do not stop!"

It was at dawn on the third day that a horse with two riders came speeding into Rivindell.

"Help! Lord Elrond! Help!" The conscious rider yelled hoarsely with panic.

It was Erestor, always up early, that came upon them first—mostly because he had heard the shouting and run. When he saw one of the warriors that had gone with Celebrian to Lorian he felt his heart stop in dread, and for a moment was shamefully relieved that the injured and unconscious elf with the warrior had brown hair and not silver. Then he recognized the hurt elf as Lindir and he flew into motion.

"Bring him to the infirmary! I will get Elrond." He ordered, then ran back into the Last Homely House like he had a Balrog chasing him.

Shortly after, in the infirmary, Elrond was stitching a limp and deathly pale Lindir with Erestor assisting and the warrior that had ridden with Lindir was asleep in a bed beside the minstrel. When Elrond had cut off Lindir's tunic to see the extent of the damage he had grown grim, but did not hesitate in carefully extracting the two arrows. He had been relieved that the arrow below the ribs had not pierced anything vital, and that there seemed to be no poison involved, but Lindir had still lost a lot of blood which was concerning. Elrond had had Erestor administer a sleeping draught with herbs for pain mixed in before pulling the arrows so that Lindir would not awaken because of the pain, but that was just in case: he had not thought that with all of the blood loss that there would be much chance of him coming to consciousness.

Erestor was wrapping everything in bandages and gauze and Elrond washing his hands when Glorfindel arrived. His clothes were in disarray but his golden hair was perfectly neat as always, and he looked very concerned.

This worry grew when he saw the pale elf on the bed, and a little surprise appeared. "How bad is it?"

"Two arrows pierced him; one in the shoulder, the other below the ribs. A large gash on the chest that was deep enough to warrant stitches. Scratches to the face that also needed to be stitched. The main concern blood loss." Erestor listed frankly and honestly.

"But he will make it?" He addressed Elrond for this.

"No one can truly say, but I believe he will. His blood will need to replenish, so he will be weak and faint for a while, but that is minor. It was very lucky that none of the wounds were poisoned." Elrond replied.

"What have you learned about how he was injured?"

"Besides that it was Orcs?" Erestor asked dryly. "Belegmegil," he nodded his head to the sleeping warrior, "says that they took a break to rest their horses and were ambushed. There were many injuries but not, to his knowledge, any casualties. Celebrian is completely unharmed, which is a miracle I am sure we would all like to see for ourselves," Elrond and Glorfindel—Elrond a little more vigorously—nodded, "unfortunately, he did not see Lindir get hurt—he was not close enough to—so we are to wait for the rest of the party arrives. They should be here soon—I imagine they would take great haste on returning so the injured could be tended."

"He did say that he was not a warrior." Glorfindel said thoughtfully after a minute of watching the elf that had always been most discreet and helpful to him.

Erestor nodded.

Elrond inclined his head in acknowledgement. "That he did."

Celebrian, along with the rest of her guards arrived late in the afternoon. The Lady had been near frantic, asking about Lindir. After being assured by her husband that they had done all they could and there was a very good chance that he would make it, Elrond had given her a sleeping draught and walked her to their room. Glorfindel had approached the leader of the group, Taureporm, on how Lindir was injured but he had directed him to another elf who had a large bump on his head named Maegehta who said he had seen the whole thing. After he had been treated by the healers, Glorfindel had taken him to Elrond's study, and Erestor had gone to fetch Elrond himself.

Now they were all seated on comfortably padded chairs and Maegehta was prepared to give his account.

"How was Lindir injured?" Elrond prompted. "Just start at the beginning, if you will."

Maegehta began hesitantly. "Lindir and Lady Celebrian were conversing when the Orcs attacked. He pushed her back to a tree and stood in front of her. Lindir used his bow to shoot down those he could, but then he got hit in the shoulder after diving in front of the Lady—"

"He dove in front of her?" Elrond asked, wondering why he was surprised.

"Yes. Then he shot and killed the archer who shot him. He put down his bow after that—I imagine it was quite painful to draw back arrows with his shoulder—and unsheathed his sword and went up against an Orc that got past our guard—that is where he got the slash on his chest, and the scratches on his face—and lost his sword. He was knocked down, and was about to be beheaded, but then he took out a dagger which was hidden in his boot and stabbed it in the gut then slit the Orcs throat." Maegehta took a breath, then exhaled loudly. "He went back to Lady Celebrian, and was hit by the second arrow, then he threw his dagger at the Orc that shot him. I didn't see if it hit, but when we were piling the bodies for burning the blade was found in the chest of an Orc."

"'Not much of a warrior,' he says." Glorfindel scoffed.

"How did you see all this while fighting the Orcs?" Erestor completely ignored Glorfindel.

"I was hit in the head, but I faded in and out."

"And how did no one else notice Lindir getting injured? Surely they heard him."

Maegehta shook his head, looking half amazed and half admiring. "That's it though: he didn't make any noise."

It was a month before Lindir was completely healed, and the whole household was relieved. Erestor had had absolutely no time to himself, because he was either swamped with paperwork or organizing events last minute. Elrond found himself unable to spend time with his children with all of his lordly duties taking up his time. Worst of all—in the eyes of Glorfindel—every time the Balrog Slayer came back from a short patrol he was forced to go to the healers and be poked and prodded and coddled and _ordered_ like he was a small elfling. They all missed Lindir and his helpfulness.

Indeed, there seemed to be only one person that was happy about Lindir taking a break. Celebrian was constantly at the minstrel's side. They talked for hours and relaxed in the gardens. By the end of the four week break, Lindir could be heard greeting the Lady as simply, 'Celebrian'.


End file.
